He was on vacation
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya part ways for their vacation, though Illya's time off takes an unexpected direction. Originally posted on section7mfu, Live Journal for the picfic Tuesday challenge. pre-saga


Illya rubbed his eyes, opening them just as the sun began to shine brightly through his bedroom window. He looked at the clock, feeling that pang of anxiety in his stomach, thinking he was late for work, but suddenly remembered _he was on vacation._

A week to himself to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

Unlike Napoleon who'd dashed away to an exotic locale on his time off, the Russian was content to stick to his humble abode just to read, eat, sleep and listen to his beloved jazz albums. He was a man of simple tastes for the most part.

Going off to some tropical beach, being fawned over by dozens of scantily clad, bikini-wearing women, though a delightful thought, still seemed rather exhausting to him. He preferred his relationships with women to be less shallow than his partner's 'love 'em and leave 'em' philosophy. Illya was more than content to stay at home, alone.

If he wanted a date, he could easily find one, as the ladies from Communications and the Secretarial pool were always in pursuit of him. Women, however, weren't the focus of his vacation as they were with Napoleon.

He rose from bed, not bothering to shower or shave and headed straight to the kitchen, making a pot of tea for himself.

Illya threw a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and soon he was happily munching away, sipping his tea while sitting on the sofa, reading yesterday's newspaper.

He heard voices out in the hallway, and instinctively he grabbed his gun.

The was a loud knock…

Moving quickly to the side of the door, holding his Special at the ready; he called out.

"Who is it ?"

"It's Ernie Johnson, you know, from 'In House Exterminations'."

Illya recognized the voice, and looked out the peephole in the door. Yes it was the man who was in charge of fumigations and exterminations for the U.N.C.L.E. owned housing properties. Just as a regular landlord should, the organization had to take care of anything needed.

Illya opened the door, tucking his gun behind his back in the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Yes, hello Ernie, what can I do for you?"

"Didn't you get the notice Mr. K? We're fumigating the building this week. A real big job; one of the tenants downstairs had some pretty bad infestations."

Illya rolled his eyes, remembering the notice now, though when he received it he thought nothing of it. He was never home when these things were being done, as he was usually off on assignment.

"Right, yes. Sorry it slipped my mind."

"Okay Mr. K. I need you to stow away any food products before I start, and of course you need to vacate the premises."

"For how long?"

"Oh it usually takes a week to thoroughly do the whole building. That's why we gave the tenants such advance notice, so they could make arrangements to stay elsewhere."

"A week? How can that be?"

"Gosh, you agents are never around when we do the job, so you have no idea how long the work, well...it's a pretty big undertaking you know and it's something that doesn't get done with the snap of a finger."

"Sorry, I meant no disrespect. Could you give me about an hour to get everything ready? I need to pack some clothes, shower and shave if you do not mind?"

"No problem. I'll be back in an hour."

"Thank you." Illya closed the door after him, resetting the alarm code. He quickly readied the kitchen, putting everything away, though there wasn't much in the way of food to worry about as he hadn't been grocery shopping yet. He headed to the bathroom, hopping in the shower, shaving and dressing himself all in twenty minutes.

He grabbed a valise from his closet and packed what he estimated would do, clothing-wise for the week. Illya added several of his books from the shelf, and deemed he was ready to go...go where, he suddenly realized?

He shrugged his shoulders, supposing he could use guest quarters and headed out the door, just as Ernie arrived on time.

"All yours my friend," he greeted the man, and trotted down the stairs to the street.

It was lunchtime, and though he was going to headquarters he really didn't feel like eating at the Commissary, he was after all, on vacation, though he snickered at that thought.

There was a small French bistro a few blocks away, and Illya decided on having lunch there. He whistled loudly for a taxi, but for some reason they passed him by.

Deciding that walking the distance wouldn't be so bad, Illya hoofed it to the restaurant, and when he arrived, he received another disappointment as it was closed….for vacation.

So far his wasn't off to a good start.

He opted for a slice of pizza from Luigi's on the corner, and again, unable to hail a cab; he walked to Del Floria's.

When he arrived at headquarters, the poor man was told there were 'no room at the inn' as there was a conference taking place with Mr. Waverly and all the attendees were staying in guest quarters.

"Say, Illya...aren't you supposed to be on vacation? Wanda asked, sitting at the desk in reception.

"That is what I thought too...long story. I will be in my office."

"Sorry Illya, you can't go there, it's being…"

"Do not tell me, fumigated? Thank you Wanda. I will see you next week." He huffed to himself, thinking he should have gone with Napoleon after all.

Though it bothered Illya's frugal nature, he went and found himself a hotel room. Since his inconvenience was caused by U.N.C.L.E. he would have no problem putting in for reimbursement for it on his expense report, though accounting might not go for it. That was if they put two and two together, noting _he was on_ _vacation_ and not on assignment. He repeated that again to himself, trying to hold back a growl that was building up inside him. Though his decision felt dishonest, he was annoyed enough just to go ahead and do it anyway. The worst that could happen was that his chit wasn't approved. He would worry about that later...

As the bellhop carried his suitcase and unlocked the door; Illya looked up and down the hall, noting how quiet it was. The room itself was quite spacious and elegantly appointed in the French provincial style… decadent, but that was all the hotel had at the moment. He was lucky to get the room as apparently there were several conventions going on in the city and most of the hotels were booked solid. This room had just been cancelled when he'd walked into the hotel.

A bowl of fruit and a guest welcome sat on glass table, and on either side were two blue chairs, obviously creating a conversation area...not that he'd be doing any conversing. The bed looked quite comfortable and inviting, there was a color television set, and a minibar as well as a fireplace, though it wasn't really chilly enough to use it.

Above it all, suspended from the ceiling was a large crystal chandelier, and when turned on, it no doubt filled the room with its sparkling glory.

The bellhop handed Illya his key, and held out his hand expecting a gratuity.

It grated, but he tipped the man for simply doing his job.

The bellhop looked down at the meager amount in his hand, staring at it.

"Gee thanks Mister."

Illya noted the sarcastic tone in his voice, and dug into his pocket, handing the man a bit more money.

That seemingly satisfied the fellow. "Anything you need, don't hesitate to call the desk. Enjoy your stay at the Wellington."

"Thank you, I will try." Illya closed the door after him. "Now what to do...yes, unpack."

That was taken care of in a few short minutes. He looked at the books he'd bought, not feeling in the mood for reading either of them, and spotted a copy of today's Times sitting on the table by the fruit.

Illya removed his jacket, along with his holster and gun, kicked off his shoes. He changed out of his clothes, and slipped a plush complimentary terry-cloth robe offered by the hotel and laid on the bed, proceeding to read the paper, while munching on some sweet black grapes. Finally something had worked out. This was all right..._he was on vacation_ after all.

He was a little tired from all his pointless walking and decided to call room service for dinner; ordering a thick juicy steak with potatoes and roasted asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, accompanied by a Ceasar salad along with a nice bottle of Pinot Noir. For dessert he opted, with a laugh, for a 'Napoleon.'

Illya sighed contentedly after his sumptuous meal, letting his mind wander and wondering what his partner might be up to? This time of the evening he was most assuredly dining, dancing and wooing his female interest. He laughed, thinking how predictable Napoleon was in that respect, though predictability was a dangerous thing in their line of work.

Thankfully the Russian had narrowed down his habit in that area to only include his appetite for food, and not women like his partner.

Illya spent the next week wandering to the park, buying some books in a second-hand store, going to a Yankees game, and eating out for the most part, as room service was a bit over the top and accounting would no doubt balk at the expense. Though he didn't own a television himself, he found himself drawn to watching it during his hotel stay. He became very interested in two programs, 'Meet the Press' and 'Face the Nation,' among a few. He decided that television wasn't kist nonsense as he thought it was, tough he did find those situation comedies dreadful.

When he was finally able to return home, he suddenly felt guilty for enjoying the extravagances the past week, but rationalized to himself, they were but a necessary evil, since he had no choice and after all,_ he was on vacation. _He kept reminding himself that, like a mantra.

Behaving very un-Kuryakin-like, he did decided to finally bite the bullet and purchase a small television set, rationalizing again that watching the nightly news was better than listening to it on the radio. He would admit it to no one, but he secretly enjoyed the cartoon shows broadcast in the morning... 'Bugs Bunny' had become his favorite, thinking surely these particular cartoons could not be meant for children, with their hidden humor, pointed political innuendo, as well as sophisticated remarks.

The next morning he returned to duty at headquarters, and greeted Wanda as he stepped into reception from the dressing room entrance in Del Floria's

"How was the vacation Illya?" She asked, as usual, handing him his ID badge.

"Uneventful," he lied with a twinkle in his eyes. No need for anyone to know how much decadence he'd indulged in for the past week...especially his partner, who would bother him unmercifully about it.

It was a wise thing he'd learned, never to give Napoleon Solo any 'extra' ammunition in that regard… though his partner wasn't due back until tomorrow.

"Hmmm,"Illya mumbled to himself, "another predictability on his partners part." Perhaps he should start keeping track of… "No, why bother," he smiled to himself, after all _Napoleon was on vacation._


End file.
